Disobedience
by Kittie1
Summary: Celaeno wasn't kidding when she'd said that those that didn't follow the Storm Kings rule would suffer his wrath. Those that failed to fall in line were punished...swiftly. She and her crew were once the best treasure hunters the world had seen and now they'd been forced into a role they never wanted to perform-lest they face the consequences.
1. Chapter 1

Disobedience was originally the main reason Celaeno and her crew did what she did. Little could compare to steering her airship through the skies, disappearing into clouds, dodging lightning bolts and the deluge of rain against her. Nothing was more thrilling than putting together heists starting from scribbles on paper carried out to their climax ending in chests full of gold, jewels, and coin.

It wasn't until the hurricane they'd been attempting to fly through in order to get past the badlands to make some sales that things had gotten from "bad" to "worse". The wind was bad, though they'd posed no threat of losing cargo, already safely stashed below deck by Boyle. The winds buffeted the multi-colored sails, despite the reinforcements she'd added from the last storm. Mullet stood at the wheel, his wiry frame swaying with the strength of the wind.

"Cap'in!"

His started yelling was enough to stir her out of studying her compass, the rapidly spinning arrow wasn't normal...

"Celaeno!"

The splintering of wood caught her and she ran as swiftly as her feet would take her, claws digging into the wood as she landed at the helm to find her first mate struggling against the pull of the winds. Wix's voice was heard in the din of the winds, struggling with the life ropes, securing them down and tightening knots.

"Mullet! Where the heck is your rope!?" She fought to be heard over the wind and the now rapidly growing thunder booms. She seized the wheel and turned with him, fighting the winds to try and steer them out of it. The wood of the airship groaned and she bit down on her tongue. "Hold her steady now! She's survived worse than this!"

In the midst of turning from the storm, Squabble let out a loud shriek, banging the alarm bells. They were being followed.

Boyle was hauling out the cannons, sweat running down his temples and into his eyes as the second airship came into view. Celaeno barely had a moment to turn to bark an order before the winds died down and the hooks landed on the end of her ship. Massive...goliath brawlers landed on her sopping wet ship deck, laying down a gangplank. Across it came two sets of footsteps. One a fairly distinct four step gait of an equine, and the other someone much...larger.

Out of the still spitting rain mist stepped a maroon pony clad in some of the most expensive armor she'd ever seen, and a large cloven-hoofed...thing.

He stared down at her and she took a step forward, squaring off her shoulders and staring up at him, her crew stood behind her. Her senses were heightened and the smell of ozone hung heavy in the air. There was that noticeable crack of Boyles' neck should things get heavy, the click of Squabble in the crows nest securing his slingshot. Mullets claws slowly slid from their sheaths and Wix's heavy weighted steps thudded on the deck.

His face hung in a stern expression before splitting into a wide, almost welcoming smile. "Captain Celaeno! We finally get to meet you! Ah! I feel like I'm meeting someone famous!" His tone was jovial, but something just didn't feel -right-.

"And this is your crew! Ah, look how pirate-y they look Tempest! Oh, this is great!"

The pony to his side only rolled her eyes but remained silent.

Alright...time to actually be a captain. "Right. So...what warrants a boarding my ship?" Celaeno was surprised how her voice still held stern, despite some of the largest brawlers on her ship staring her down.

The goat beast snapped his fingers and smiled. "So glad you asked Caelly..." with a great flourish, he whipped out a flag and thrust it at her. "I, the STORM KING-need goods shipped and you're exactly the ones to do it." He gestured back to his ship where his beasts were already gearing up to load the cargo onto her deck. "See? Already ready to go."

"No thanks." She shook her head, waving a clawed hand. "We're not delivery birds. Treasure hunters actually."

The smile vanished from his face faster than she could blink. "What?" He asked, his tone suddenly going from jovial to deadpan.

Celaeno shook her head, waving a hand. "I said no. We don't ship goods. Take it up with ground services if you want a delivery. Wrap it up, boys!" She whistled, prompting Boyle and Mullet to step up, going nose to sternum with the guards trying to haul crates onto the ship.

Turning around to examine her still wonky compass, a sudden warmth was behind her, and a hand grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around. "What part of -King- is hard for you to get. You're going to ship this, and you're going to -keep- shipping it until I say so."

She seized her sword from where it was on her belt and unsheathed it, stepping back to give her a solid two feet of space. "I don't think you're understanding the word no, what was it-Storm King? We don't do deliveries."

"Then maybe you just need some...motivation..."

The pony at the gangplank whistled and before anyone could move, there was a singing of steel in the air, and twin cries of pain. Mullet stumbled backward, clutching his face as he howled in pain. Boyle stared in horror at the stump that had once been his left hand. Blood spurted from the injury, soaking down his sleeve.

Storm King chuckled to himself as he danced his way to the gangplank. "I'll give you a week to make up your mind. Don't worry, we'll find you.". They crossed back to their ship, and pulled their hooks back, as a dull, spitting rain came down from overhead.

Wix was in motion before she was, sqwaking orders to Squabble, the walleyed cannoneer dashing this way and that. Caelano bolted for the forges, kept hot to power the steam needed to stay aloft, and seized a poker. Boyle was flat on his back when she came above deck, his eye rolling up in his head as Wix elevated his arm.

"Boyle..." her voice shook briefly, before the massive pirate shook his head.

"Just do it."

The sizzle of raw meat, burning iron and the scream of pain echoed to her, cauterizing the devastating wound shut. "Go check on Mullet-shoo!" Normally Wix wasn't this bossy, probably what made her a fantastic cook and ship doctor. She could whip up a poultice from whatever she had on hand to soothe a fever, fix a bruise and close a cut in a blink of an eye.

The front of her shirt and chest feathers were soaked in blood already by the time she got her hands on Mullet, swearing curses and vomiting in pain over the side of the ship. She grabbed him, possibly a little too roughly and he swore again, yanking away.

"Let me see, Mullet." Her tone was all business, she needed to detach herself from the fact this was her crew, her family. Slowly, taking short and painful gasps, he peeled his hand away to reveal the mangled side of his face. There was no saving the eye, it dangled by a thread. Blood wasn't clotting, still flowing freely dark purple down his cheeks and into his beak. There was only one option.

"Squabble! The poker!" She straddled him, her knees pinning his hands down. For being so wiry, her first mate was -strong-. Stronger than she anticipated as Squabble held his head still and she pressed the red hot metal to his face, foul-smelling smoke rising up the bile in her throat. He luckily went limp under her, and she pulled back. Boyle was already gone, taken below deck to their quarters.

Hauling Mullet under his arms, she and Squabble carried him down and the acidic smell of herbs assaulted her. Wix was rushing too and fro, blood staining the front of her apron as a pot steamed over the hearth. "Put him there!" Her voice was screeching, cracking from muttering to herself as she measured the fresh herbs she kept and wrapped them up in cheesecloth, tossing them into a green liquid in the pot.

Upon doing what she was told, Wix flagged Squabble down, passing him a list of items she needed and the cannoneer stumbled off. "Cap'n. I need your hands." The cook called, and Celaeno moved quickly, the tail ends of steaming wet poultices pressed into her clawed hands.

"Take the bandages, put these on the wounds and be quick about it. Those we don't have a lot of time before an infection is going to set in."

She did as requested, the responsibility shifting from Captain to Cook-come-doctor. Boyle grunted in pain, his eyes cracking open as she pushed down the little bag of herbs, wrapping them up tightly.

"Did we get 'em?" He croaked. Celaeno snorted and tied off the bandage. "Next time big guy. Next time. Close your eyes." Wix passed a cup of something bitter smelling into her hands. Poppy milk.

She pressed the cup to his beak and he screwed up his face. "You have to drink it. Captains orders." She pleaded. Finally, her shipmate complied, swallowing a few mouthfuls before exhaustion and shock took over.

There was no getting anything into Mullet. He'd regained consciousness and was groaning in pain, fighting against Wix's considerable weight as she tied off the bandage to his face. He squawked and screamed in pain, feathers flying from his struggles. There was one last thing she'd yet to try.

"First mate Mullet!" Her voice barked, carrying every bit of authority she did while manning cannons and steering her ship. "Settle. Down." There was a growl to her tone that left little room for argument. "Drink the poppy milk. That's an order."

Blinded and in pain from the bandages covering his eyes, the thin pirate slumped back on the bed, panting heavily. "C-Cap'n..." he rasped. "Can't see. I can't see." He was struggling to swallow the panic, his chest rapidly rising and falling.

She sat next to him, pressing a hand to his sweaty feathered head. "I know. Just drink." She lifted the cup to his beak and he swallowed, gagging briefly from the bitter taste, and swallowed a second time. After a few moments, his hyperventilating slowed, and he sank down into the bed, going limp.

For the first time since the storm began, silence sank over the ship. The only sounds to be heard were Wix's muttering, Boyles raspy breathing, the bubbling of the pot and the groaning of the ship.

"Here." A warm, wet cloth was pressed against her chest, Wix looking up at her. "Wash up. You look like you've gone ten rounds with an Ursa Major." She was scrubbing her own face off, the brown cloth taking a pinkish tinge.

Celaeno looked down at herself, realizing just how bloody she'd gotten. A sponge bath wasn't ideal, but it was good enough for now.

For now, her crew needed her.


	2. Chapter 2

The weeks following Storm Kings "visit" were spent in a state of rest and repair. They'd had to take port in Kludgetown more than once, tossing coin at a shady innkeeper under pseudonyms. They were a sight, steering Mullet with a firm hand up to their rooms, his eyes still bandaged. Boyle insisted on walking himself, Wix flanked by his side as Squabble followed up behind.

It was typical Kludgetown fare for the rooms, nothing more than beds and a bathroom, which was really all they needed. Once they were settled, the latch was locked and Celaeno went about closing the shutters as Boyle sank down into a chair, clenching and unclenching his fist. The claw-like prosthetic he'd been fitted with was multi-tooled, and several different ones made. He was still plagued with phantom pains, despite the tissue having healed and scarred over. Both Wix and Celaeno had helped to change the dressings, and it wasn't a pretty sight.

Mullet, on the other hand, was a massively different story. In the days and weeks after his injury, he'd been plagued with a fever, tremors and sweats. He shook and swore, though Wix refused him any more poppy milk, the signs of too much having already begun to show. Instead, she'd resorted to willow bark, soaking it in a tea and administering it in small spoonfuls.

"So...what's the plan that Capin?" Came Boyles grunt behind her. She felt her shoulders slump, and she gazed out into the dark and dangerous streets of the city beneath them. Lamps were lit, though she knew the hazards that lingered.

"We get back on our feet and head south. Black Rock Island has the safe house, we'll hide there until the Storm King forgets about us." She replied back.

Three knocks at the door signaled Squabbles return and the bonk eyed assistant entered once the door was unlocked, bowls of some form of stew with unrecognizable meat and veg in an equally odd looking broth. But it was hot, it smelled edible, and they'd been on the move for over a month straight.

Mullet pushed himself into a sitting position, fumbling for a spoon. Celaeno pretended not to see Wix mix in a heavy dose of willow bark powder into the bowl before nudging it towards his eager claws. Her first mate was slowly regaining his appetite, and it seemed to be settling back to normal given his devouring of the meal.

The Captain herself didn't have much of a drive to eat and used her spoon to aimlessly stir the meal. The gears in her head were turning much to fast, going over what they'd need for the trip south. Mullet was in no position to do anything, she couldn't trust Squabble much beyond the basics, Boyle was still too heavy-handed...

"Ya know...I can hear ya thinking"

Wix's voice cut into her thoughts, the overweight cook watching her intently. "We'll make it down south before they find us. You know it'll be alright."

"Yep."

"And you know this wasn't your fault. We all know the risks."

"Mmhm."

"And yer soup is leaking into yer lap."

Before the cook finished her sentence the steaming hot liquid was soaking into her trousers and she grumbled, bolting up. The sudden noise sent Mullet's feathers puffing up-a normal response to being startled but was quickly soothed.

Storming off to the bathroom to get cleaned up-she had a lot to think about.

Three months after Mullet's bandages were removed, he'd been fitted with an eye patch. He strutted like a cocktaeil, posturing like a hotshot declaring it gave him "character". Boyle had gotten a grasp of his new strength-and his weaknesses. The crew made it a point to only approach Mullet on his sighted side and to avoid handing Boyle things in his clawed hand.

They were back into the skies, the cool breezes whistling through her feathers, the sun blazing overhead and nothing but the expanse of the skies before them.

Mullet was at the wheel, his posture relaxed, Wix was below deck working on lunch, Squabble in his nest up above as Celaeno and Boyle went over the trade maps.

"We're not that far from the safe house. Another day flying at this speed and we should be in the clear." He grunted, pointing out a direct route.

Celaeno clucked her tongue against her beak and tapped a small cluster of islands. "Unless the natives decide they still hate us. I mean...we DID take one of their crystal idols."

"What did we ever do with that thing?"

"Squabble puts his goggles on it when he goes to bed."

"Oh yeah!"

Then came the shrill screech from overhead, and the alarm bells. The sky darkened as the dull roar of approaching engines could be heard. Celaenos heart sunk into her belly, and she began barking orders.

"Get the cargo below deck! Steady the ship! We're going to be boarded!"

The ship didn't stop coming...before knocking into the pirates' airship hard enough to nearly knock them off their feet. There was a hiss of steam that dissipated into a hazy fog, and Celaeno felt her feathers puffing up from the humidity.

"Well well -well-...didn't I say I'd call you? You're all looking just -lovely-." The Storm King strutted onto her deck as if he owned it, flanked by the same fearsome looking pony-Commander Tempest-they'd come to have heard.

He chuckled and strutted up to Boyle, tapping his claws on the bronze cap at his hand. "Look at -you-! Now you look like a real pirate!" He chuckled in delight, before eyeing up Mullet. "And look at you, eyepatch!" He smirked. "What good is a pirate without at least one eye patch?"

Turning on his heel, he stared down Celaeno. "Now then. My cargo." He snapped his fingers, and the crates began getting loaded.

Celaeno opened her beak to protest, this was -her- ship, and -her- damn crew! Her hand went to her sword and his hand enveloped her waist whole, lifting her up to eye height. She heard the crew protesting, the singing of steel as swords were unsheathed. There was about to be a battle on her own ship...again.

"Are we -really- going to have to do this again, Captain?" He growled, tightening his grip. The air rushed from her lungs, leaving her struggling. She shook her head, twisting in his grip. "Good."

"I...I have terms."

He nearly burst out laughing, loosening his grip enough for her to take a gasping breath. "YOU want to run terms by ME? Oh, this'll be rich. Considering I'M employing YOU...lay it on me."

His hands went to her tail feathers and gave them a gentle stroke. "But just so we're clear...if any of your crew moves while we're discussing our terms, I'm going to pluck out every single one of these feathers...we clear?"

She cast her crew a desperate look that said 'Trust me'. Slowly, they relaxed, and the Storm Guards rounded them up.

"Alright Captain..." Storm King drawled. "What are your 'terms'?"

"We ship your goods, we get left alone. That's all. No random boardings, no more breaking my crew." She rasped. His hand tightened, and stars burst in front of her vision.

He seemed to be deep in thought, leaving Celaeno struggling in his grip, half-hearted gasps quickly fading as blackness danced at the edge of her vision. Her fragile bones groaned and creaked, and her struggles began to slow.

"Yer gonna kill her!" Boyles clawed hand sunk into the shield of the storm guard in front of him as he threw it over board, using his brute strength to bull rush towards the Storm King-

Only to be blown back by a blast of lightning from Tempest's horn. Celaeno was tossed onto the deck, gasping and panting for breath, a thin trail of blood behind her as the green of her tail feathers remained in the Storm Kings hands.

"Commander Tempest-what were the terms of the Captain and I speaking?" He drawled, examining the droplets of blood on the tips of the feathers. He ignored the gasping wheezes of the now waylaid captain beneath him.

"Your orders were that none of the crew moves, my liege." Came the calm and quiet reply. Blue electricity arced around her broken and splintered horn. "Would you like me to do the honors of dispatching this crew and sinking the ship?"

With a chuckle, the Storm King shook his head. "No no. I still need them! But-if you don't play by the rules-" he strode to Celaeno, as the crew looked on helplessly. "You get a penalty." His hooves came down once, and the bones of her right leg crunched and splintered. The second time, her body couldn't register what was happening. A fire had erupted in her legs, and she realized just how badly they'd been decimated. Her left leg sat at an awkward angle in several places but the right...darkness was dancing at her vision again and she dropped her head back onto the deck.

A scroll of paper was tossed down onto her chest, and the Storm King stormed off her ship, followed by the guards and his commander. Her crew exploded, and only when the Storm King left did she allow herself to scream, and scream she did.

Boyle hauled her up, and fresh warmth ran from the brutalized stump of her right leg, Wix barking for Mullet to take them back to Kludgetown. The entire ship lurched, and they turned back north.

Below deck was a sight, the fearsome pirate captain being pinned to the bed as she thrashed while her cook reset her shattered leg. She clucked out orders to Squabble, Boyle using his flesh hand to hold her down. Her bruised ribs protested the pressure, and he smoothed the sweat soaked feathers down to her head, muttering reassurances.

"Captain...we gotta." He grunted, and the shuffling from the forges lit up in her ears, setting off a fly or fight. She thrashed, feathers coming lose, and Boyle grabbed her, facing her eye to eye. "If we don't yer gonna bleed out and we're not gonna have anyone!"

Celaeno stilled for a fraction of a second, all the time Wix needed to cauterize the wound and she screamed, shock taking over and she finally succumbed to the sweet call of oblivion.

"And ya said it was a ship accident?"

"Yep."

"Crushed by some crates huh? Nobody thought t'secure the cargo?"

"Rookie mistake. Thats the life eh?"

Footsteps limped away as Celaeno came to her senses. She was lying in a bed, the smell of liquor, blood and fire invading her nose. As she opened her eyes, she was in some kind of safe house. Boyle was passing off a bag of coin to a feline, who gracefully bowed his way out.

"Wh...what...where are we?"

A cup was pressed to her beak and she swallowed-poppy milk. Strong poppy milk.

"Save yer strength."

Sleep overtook her again.

Celaeno wasn't aware she was screaming until she was shaken awake. She was back in the safe house, Mullet holding onto her shoulders, calling her name.

"Celaeno! Cel! Are ya with me!?" He looked -awful-. His good eye was exausted, his entire frame taught with anxiety.

Slowly, her panting subsided and she sank back into the mattress, and he gently lifted a cup to her mouth, and she drank down the water greedily. Shaking with fever, she realized how matted down she was.

"What happened?"

Mullet was good at hiding his expressions, and went about mixing up a poultice. "Well ah..."

"Mullet."

He slammed his clawed hands onto the tray. "Look down, Captain."

Slowly and carefully, she lifted the blanket covering her leg, and the full extent of what had happened sank in. Her right leg past the knee was gone. A bandaged, bloody stump remained. Her left was healing, ugly and swollen, set in a surdy brace-looked like Boyles work. Slowly, she pushed down, and tested her range of motion sending ripples of pain up her leg causing her to hiss.

"Ah ah ah-don't even think about it. Wix'll have a canary." Mullet grumbled.

Celaeno covered up her lap again, there was no matter dwelling on it-whats done was done. A cold cloth was uncerimoniously plunked on her burning forehead and she was greatful for the sensation, a small groan escaping her. Darkness overtook her again.

The following was rougher than she imagined. The brace was annoying, took her forever to get a hang of. Jokingly, she said she'd use a peg, though it was proving to be more difficult than expected. She sweated, rode out fevers, twice the stump was infected leaving her bed ridden and half delusional with fever.

A few quick swipes through their jewel stash had yeilded something that reminded her why her crew was more than -just- her crew. They presented it to her when she was taking a break, seated on a crate and getting a drink. It was becoming tiresome either hopping everywhere or needing to lean on someone.

"Captain Celaeno? We uh...got ya somethin." Boyles voice was bashful.

Mopping the sweat from her brow, she turned her head to find him holding a length of a green gem in his broad hands. The surface was polished, a thin cleft for stability carved into the front, the cap made for fitting on her remaining thigh. Taking it into her hands, it was suprisingly light, save for a bit of weight on the end. Her mouth went dry, as she looked betwen the prostetic, and crew.

"It's perfect."

Slowly, with the utmost care to her still sensitive nerves, Boyle removed the peg leg and slid the new one in place until it clicked. Slowly, she slid down to stand, rocking her weight from side to side. It was perfect.

But like every hurricane, it has it's eye-and then the storm resumes.


	3. Chapter 3

Seven months had passed since the initial attack on her crew had happened. Recovery was slow, on all of their parts. Phantom limb pains, relearning limbs, and the lot of them having the stubborn resolve they didn't need help. They hauled the Storm Kings goods, managed to keep ahead of schedule, and do their own side work.

"Really Boyle? You -fell- on this?"

Celaenos tone was incredulous, examining the bent hook attached to her crewmates arm. There was no way, even with his weight and strength he could've crushed the tool. "Are you sure that you didn't let something crush it?"

For all of his surly exterior, Boyles one give away was his features. His heart was perpetually on his sleeve, and his original statements of having fallen on his prosthetic quickly evaporated.

"I uh...tried hauling the crates on my own. Wix was busy." He confessed.

The captain opened her mouth to give him a talking to when the alarm bells sounded. They had visitors and judging by Squabbles frantic sounds Celaeno knew exactly who it was.

Heading above deck, it was early fall for the region they were in, and the air had a bite too it. Commander Tempest was already on her deck, examining the group with a neutral came to find that it wasn't those that screamed and ranted that she should fear in life. It was the ones that -never- raised their voice above room level that turned out to be the most dangerous.

"Commander Tempest!" She greeted, swooping her hat down into a low bow. "To what do we owe the pleasure?" She was secretly hoping that this was just a chance inspection. She knew the goods they had were worth SOME kind of coin, and that they were working ahead of schedule enough to possibly appease the pony enough to leave them alone for a few months.

However, instead of the answer, she was hoping for, a new crate was unloaded onto the deck. "The Storm King sends a gift." Tempest explained flatly. She gestured to the crate and the Storm Guards cracked it open. "Compliments for your hard work."

Peering inside, folded fabric greeted the captain of the ship. "Uniforms?" She questioned.

Tempest nodded. "You're to wear the uniforms as long as you serve the Storm King."

There was an indignant squawk from behind her and Wix stepped up. "We're -treasure hunters-!"

The Storm Guards straightened up, and the cook-come-doctor shrank back, and for a moment, Celaeno saw the corner of Tempest's mouth curl up into a grin.

"And now you're delivery drivers. Unless you think you've got more to lose? Oh, and Captain Celaeno? The Storm King has something special for you. It's mandatory. Wouldn't want another unexpected visit and have you out of uniform again."

Commander Tempest turned and headed off her ship, and it left...leaving the crew to examine their new uniforms before a thud at the bottom of the crate drew all of their attention.

Before Celaeno could see what it was, Mullet's tail shot into the box and snagged a long and thin rod, snapping it behind his back. He began backing away before she caught his eye. "Give it here."

"You -really- don't want to-"

"Now, Mullet."

Slowly, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar he relinquished exactly what she thought he'd be hiding. A peg leg, comical enough as it was, fitted for her to move in. Her balance would be compromised due to the angle...she'd have to make it work.

Her crew didn't look so enthused as they slowly removed what they had, donning the dull, shapeless uniforms. Celaeno eyed up what they'd become as she removed her hat, smoothing down the crest on her head and securing it back with a bandanna. Squabble was fighting with the long sleeves of his jumpsuit, giving it a straight jacket appearance. Whether it was a tailoring issue or a slight against the crewmate, she wasn't sure. Seating herself, she hissed in pain as she removed the favored peg leg, and rubbed over the stump of what had been her leg.

There hadn't been terrible scarring she noted, running her clawed hands over the sensitive area, rubbing out any soreness. Slowly, the wrappings she kept over the scar were unraveled, exposing the pockmarked skin to the air. Hissing through her beak, her shoulders hunched up.

"Need a hand?"

Mullet approached her from behind, a jar held in his hands. "Wix got more salve. Figured you'd need it."

'Bless that cook' was the first thing that came to the pirate captains' mind, and she made a small grabbing motion for the jar. "Could use a dab...sore t'day."

Mullet pulled up a stool in front of her, waving her off. "Let me." He unscrewed the cap and the heavy scent of herbs wafted up into the air. The salve was thick, dark green and didn't come out without a bit of elbow grease. "You think we'll be able to do this for long?" He questioned, and gently applied the herbal remedy to his captain's leg.

The cooling effect on her scars was instant, and she let her head lull back. She normally didn't allow the crew to see her so broken-she and Mullet had a history. He wasn't her first mate for nothing, after all. He was her confidant more often than not, and she, in turn, became his. "For now-it'll get the Storm King off our tails. The less attention he spends on us the safer we'll be." She explained.

With the utmost care, Mullet rewrapped her leg and attached the brutal looking peg leg. Pulling his captain to her feet, he watched and held on as she stumbled, readjusting her weight. "You know we'd follow you into the ground right?" His face was tight, Celaeno read the signs of anxiety washing off him like the tide.

"We're going to be alright, Mullet. Just need to avoid him for a while is all. He'll forget about us and we can get back to what we were doing..." 

* * *

A year and a half came and went, and the crew shipped all sorts of things, all safely locked in crates none of the crew dared to touch. Money exchanged hands, supplies were purchased, until one off day Squabble came bolting back from port visibly shaken. His garbled speech and mannerisms were already difficult to decipher, it had taken Wix over an hour to calm him down before she managed to translate his babble.

Storm Guards had taken notice of the brightly colored sails on the ship. They'd pointed it out as Squabble had been unloading crates. It was enough to throw him into such a panic he'd retreated to under his bunk and refused to come out. All the sunflower seeds they had in stock weren't enough to coax him out.

Lo and behold, the looming engines of Commander Tempest's ship came into view. The crew gave her, and her guards a wide berth. She walked up and down the length of the ship examining the cargo, the crews' uniforms-she made a pleased noise upon noticing Celaeno wearing the obscene peg leg-before stopping. Her eyes landed on Boyle, arching up at the hook.

"If you're on the clock, you're not wearing that."

Indignant, Boyle gestured to the cap. "I need my hand!"

"You've got two."

Tempests eyes flicked up to the brightly colored sails on the ship. "Those need to go. Storm King wants uniformity with his airships."

Rage flared in Celaenos chest, and her hands clenched into fists, the clawed tips of her fingers digging into her palms. Those sails were a cultural byproduct of a dying species-HER species. The sails reminded her of what she'd left behind, the bright colors and sturdy fabrics aimed to flag down familiar and friendly ships from afar.

"The sails stay." She replied coolly.

Tempest flicked an ear, and arched a brow. "Are you defying a direct order from the Storm King?" She questioned.

"The sails-"

"Your ship also runs on steam. You'll just need to double the steam output."

Celaeno stepped forward, the crest on her head puffing out. "This is -my- ship and -" There was a crackle of electricity and Celaeno let out a cry of agony, arching her back as the wafting aroma of burnt feathers hung in the air. Her crew watched helplessly as Celaeno stumbled to her bearings, and puffed her chest out.

"The sails...stay." She rasped again. She'd burst vessels in her eyes, giving her a horrifying appearance. Tempest wasn't amused, and she turned to stare down the crew.

"Apparently disciplining the captain isn't much of a bartering chip anymore." She stated quietly. Stomping her hoof, two of the storm guards lumbered forward, and a third took Squabble from the rest of the crew. He was disoriented, his eyes rolling around in his head as he began making distressed honking noises and Celaenos stomach sank.

"No wait-"

The storm guards fist sank into Squabbles gut and his honking turned into distressed wheezes.

"Stop!"

By the second punch, the sharpshooter was limp, hanging against the restraining arms of the guard.

Tempest pretended to suddenly realize Celaeno's screams, and perked and ear. "I'm assuming you get the message."

With that, they left. Squabble assumed the fetal position, holding onto his midsection. Celaeno was at his side in an instant as Wix looked him over. "Squabble I-" She cut herself off, he was shaking his head. Weakly, he gave her a thumbs up through the too-long sleeves of his uniform.

Anything for the family. 

* * *

The dull routine they'd been forced into was a far...far cry from their adventuring days. Now they lived on a strict schedule, living in the constant fear of an errant Storm Guard ship catching a moment of disobedience.

That was until Mullet and Boyle had come across several stowaways on her ship...

"What say the book...Captain Celaeno?"


End file.
